You Come From God in Heaven
by Risita
Summary: What if Fantine stayed asleep during Valjean and Javert's confrontation? She goes with Valjean to Montfermeil unaware of who he really is. Then she finds out, and their romance starts to bloom... Chapter 5 up, yay!
1. Sickness

**Chapter 1: Sickness**

**A/N: **There aren't and will never be explicitly sexual scenes in this story. The "T" rating is for mature-ish themes that are already in Les Mis, such as prostitution.

The sun was setting on a cold February evening. In the mayor's house of Montreuil-sur-mer, Fantine lay half-deliriously in her sick-bed. She sat up with a start as the door to the next room creaked open. There, standing in the doorway, was Felix! Six years after he had abandoned Fantine and her baby, he had come back, just as in her dreams. As Felix smiled and tipped his hat, another appearance brought her to utter ecstasy: Cosette! Fantine's long-lost daughter was trailing behind Felix, holding onto his finger with filial affection.

Fantine did not have time to greet Felix and Cosette before they transformed before her eyes. Felix's carefree face morphed into the imposing one of Inspector Javert, while Cosette fell on all fours and turned into a police dog. The Inspector advanced toward Fantine's bed, carrying a pair of handcuffs. "You are under arrest for assault on a citizen," he announced with a booming yet frigid voice. He grabbed her hand to place the handcuffs on her wrist; she tried to scream but no sound came out. The accusation continued: "You have also violated your parole." Confusion permeated Fantine's terror--this last charge made no sense!

She awoke clutching the blankets. Had all of this been just another fever-inspired dream? A man's hand was indeed holding hers, but it was only that of Monsieur Madeleine, the kindly gentleman who had been caring for her. He was the mayor of Montreuil-sur-mer and the most powerful man in town, but he acted unlike any authority figure Fantine had ever known. She expected them to act like Inspector Javert, who had condemned and tried to arrest her. Yet the mayor had interceded to save her from his wrath, and for this she felt a gratitude beyond words. Now her savior spoke to her gently: "Mademoiselle, how are you feeling today?" Even his manner of talking made her swoon; "Mademoiselle" to a prostitute was as nourishing as "Monsieur" to a convict.

Fantine snapped out of her reverie and realized she still had a raging fever. "Still very badly," she whispered hoarsely, "but I feel a little bit better now that you're here."

"Do you need anything? I brought another pillow."

She shook her head. Her thoughts descended once again into a confused haze. She could not remember whether the visitors of a few minutes ago had been real or part of a dream. "Is my Cosette here?"

Monsieur Madeleine reached down and comfortingly stroked her forehead. "Yes, Cosette is here, playing in the garden just like yesterday. You'll be able to see her soon."

"What about the Inspector?" Fantine sobbed.

The Mayor drew away his hand, startled. His expression changed to alarm, though he was trying to conceal it. "Javert--he was--did you see--?" A flash of inspiration crossed his face. "Yes, Javert has also been here, and he tried again to arrest you. I threw him out, but I don't know how much longer my word will restrain him. Tomorrow morning, I will take you away from here, so that he cannot find you." He took a deep breath. "I have already sent Cosette ahead of us."

Fantine stared confusedly. Hadn't Monsieur Madeleine just told her that Cosette was there in the garden? She told wondered if this, too, had been part of some dream. Every day she felt less able to distinguish between dreams and reality.

"Now go back to sleep, mademoiselle," he concluded. "We'll have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." He left the room. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she heard his footsteps pause at the door for a few minutes. Could he be watching her?

Fantine opened her eyes to the weak morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Monsieur Madeleine's hands were around her waist, lifting her and her blankets into the air. She was amazed at his strength as he carried her outside to a hired coach. He gingerly placed her on the seat, then went back into the house for more bed-linens. Once they were arranged around Fantine's body, she felt nearly untouched by the frigid February air.

The mayor himself sat up front with the driver. She heard him speaking: "This woman is very ill. I would never let her travel, except that it is absolutely necessary. Please be very careful not to jolt around, for a rough ride may kill her."

The driver looked back at her with curiosity. "Who is she?...Hah, I know who that girl is! It's Fantine, the whore! I've seen that wretch prowling the streets. The cheapest and ugliest of all, with hair cut off and teeth missing!" He pointed to his two front teeth and guffawed. "Tell me, Monsieur Mayor"--these two words said sarcastically--"what are you doing in Paris with a girl like _her_? Having a little tryst, are we? Who'd have known your tastes were like _that_!"

He replied with disgust in his voice: "I'm taking her to see a doctor I know there, who is more skilled than anyone in this town. Surely you can see that she desperately needs a doctor's care."

"Always the benefactor, even to the scum of the earth," the driver grumbled.

The two men lapsed into hostile silence, leaving Fantine to her misery. Shivering with fever and the still-penetrating cold, shaken by every bump in the road, each hour of the ride seemed like a week.

Before noon the three travelers passed through a village and stopped at a tavern to eat. Monsieur Madeleine carried Fantine over to a plushy chair near the fire. He brought her a bowl of warm porridge, prodding her to eat it although she had no appetite. His caring treatment bittersweetly reminded her of caring for Cosette, and her longing for her daughter became more intense than ever. He himself ate nothing. Once he'd convinced Fantine to spoon the porridge into her mouth, he engaged in a discussion with the tavern keeper.

Half an hour after their arrival, the driver exited through the back door to use the outhouse. Monsieur Madeleine scooped Fantine up without any warning and brought her outside, where a different carriage with a different driver was waiting. This time there were no warnings about Fantine's sickness, only a gruff command to "speed up." In the time it would take for the old driver to realize his passengers were missing, they had left the village. The new driver slowed down and asked: "Where to, monsieur?"

Monsieur Madeleine replied, "Montfermeil," and confusion returned to Fantine's mind. The more time she spent with this man, the less his actions made sense. Why had he told one driver he was going to Paris and the other Montfermeil? Why had he changed coaches at all? In fact, why would he go to Montfermeil, the village where Cosette had lived before returning to Montreuil-sur-mer? Now that Cosette was not living with the Thenardiers, what could they be doing there?

They arrived in Montfermeil before the sun set. The carriage stopped at a tumbledown-looking inn near the center of town. It looked much like the place where Fantine had left Cosette, but she assumed she must have forgotten through the years - or perhaps she was hallucinating again? The inkeeper - Thenardier? - noticed Monsieur Madeleine's fine clothes and immediately began fawning over him. Fantine thought he might not have been so courteous if he'd seen the sick, disheveled waif sitting in the carriage. After a few moments, he handed Monsieur Madeleine a key and resumed yelling at his family. The mayor furtively brought Fantine into a large first-floor bedroom and tucked her into bed. An inexplicable feeling of peace enveloped her; she fell asleep immediately and stayed asleep the entire night. It was the best slumber she had had in months, including before she had been sick.

For the first time in Fantine's illness, she woke up feeling better than the day before. Her body only felt minimally better, but her mind felt as if a great fog had been lifted. Now that she could think clearly, Monsieur Madeleine's strange actions of the day before made more sense. The false story about the doctor, the changing carriages, the lie about going to Paris--all had been to prevent Inspector Javert from finding her. She knew the mayor was generous, but she'd never thought he would go so far for her. Only one question remained, and she voiced it: "Cosette? Where are you, Cosette?" Her voice came out as a croak. It was too soft for anyone in the inn to hear--or so she thought, until the familiar white-haired yet powerful man opened the door. He sat down on the chair beside her bed.

"Monseiur Mayor! Oh, thank you for everything!" she rasped.

He took her hand. "You're looking much better, Mademoiselle Fantine. I am glad to see it." His expression turned stern. "But there is something I must ask you to do. Please don't call me Mayor or Monsieur Madeleine anymore. If you do, someone might realize what is happening and who I--ah--who you are. I've decided to use the name Ultime Fauchelevent; you may call me that."

"I understand, Monsieur, um, Fauchelevent," she replied, but she did not understand. Why did he change his own identity but make no effort to disguise hers? It was as if _he _were the fugitive instead of her. As soon as one mystery was solved, another always seemed to appear--which reminded her: "Where is Cosette?"

He smiled, but grimly. "I have not lied to you this time, Fantine. Cosette is here, in this very inn. I promise you that, but I can no longer say that you can see her tomorrow or the next day. No, you will have to be feeling _much_ better before you can see her."

"Oh, but I miss her so much! You don't understand, monsieur. I need to see her more than anything in the world. Until I can hear her happy little voice laughing, I don't think I can ever get better." Her face fell in sorrow.

The mayor, however, was firm: "You'll recover very soon, but until you do, I absolutely cannot allow you to see her. You'll understand why very soon."

Fantine was heartbroken, but she thought she knew why she could not see her daughter. She had always imagined Cosette as the lively toddler she had left, and Monsieur Madeleine had probably realized this. What would Cosette look like after years of continual sickness? Perhaps she would be so frail that simply seeing her would weaken Fantine's drive toward recovery. Resigned, Fantine waited for the day when her long-awaited reunion would finally come.

**A/N: **Hope you liked this first chapter! By the way, if you want to read Les Mis but are overwhelmed by the huge brick, I recommend the abridged version edited by Paul Benichou. This version is still over 500 pages and keeps all the plot and characterization, but gets rid of non-essential things like Hugo's "rants" about Waterloo, etc.


	2. Deception

**Chapter 2: Deception**

Fantine opened her eyes. She'd been sleeping in a soft white bed in the best room of the Thenardiers' inn. Through the window, the sun had not quite finished rising; it must be about eight in the morning. The high-pitched chirps of the birds sounded from the trees outside. Fantine took a moment to savor the happy sights and sounds. After so many weeks of sickness and fear, her peaceful convalescence felt utterly sublime.

It had been seven days since she and Monsieur Madeleine--or Monsieur Fauchelevent, as she now had to call him--had arrived at the inn. Every day she expected him to return to Montreuil-sur-mer and his mayoral duties. She had never imagined he would stay the whole week, but he had. She looked around the room and felt a shock. Not only was Monsieur Madeleine still at the inn, he was sitting right in her bedroom! He had nodded off in a chair without changing into his night-clothes. From the position of his head, he looked as if he'd been facing her when he fell asleep. Monsieur? Is that you?" she asked, mostly to herself.

He twitched and sat up straight in the chair, thickly muttering "Javert?" His posture relaxed as his eyes blinked open and flicked toward Fantine. "Oh, good morning, Fantine. You're awake early today. You are feeling better, aren't you?" He stood up to have a better look.

"Yes, very much, and I owe it all to you. I cannot even begin to thank you for all you've done..." Fantine's voice trailed off as she found herself looking up at her benefactor's face. Monsieur Madeleine's smile was comforting--unlike her, he had all his teeth--and his eyes shone with good humor. Though his hair was white, he did not look old. The events of the past few months had turned her own hair grey; she wondered what trauma had prematurely aged him. His face was not conventionally handsome, but Fantine found it pleasant to look at.

He waved away Fantine's statements of gratitude and continued: "Then I think you're finally ready. Do you want to see Cosette now?"

"Yes! Oh, God, of course I do!" she squealed. At that moment he looked like an angel from Heaven.

"Then I will go and bring her to you."

A torturously slow half-hour passed. Cosette walked in timidly, holding onto Monsieur Madeleine's finger the same way she had held Felix's in the dream. Her skinny frame swayed as her gaunt face searched the room; she looked as sickly as Fantine had worried. Yet her hair was neatly combed, and the clothes hanging over her skin-and-bones body looked new. The Thenardiers had apparently done their best to care for her. The girl's eyes went wide with amazement when she saw her mother. Fantine heard her whisper, "It's her! It's the lady in white from my dreams!" Then, louder but with apprehension: "Good morning, madame--is there anything I can--do for you?"

Fantine's heart sank as she realized her greatest fear had proven true. "Cosette, my love, don't you remember me? Your mother?"

Cosette shook her head and wept into her hands. "Oh, please don't be mean to me like everyone else! Please don't make up stories to make me cry! I already know I don't have a mother - Madame Thenardier told me so. You don't have to remind me."

"Madame Thenardier was wrong. You do have a mother, and I've missed you so much, my baby. Can you forgive me for leaving you for so long?" Fantine sat up in bed and leaned over to hug Cosette, wanting more than anything to dry her tears.

Cosette only shrank back nervously until Monsieur Madeleine put his hand on her shoulder. He whispered, "This lady is a good friend of mine. I promise that she loves you with all her heart, and only wants you to love her back." Cosette seemed partially reassured; she gave Fantine a tentative hug.

It was the sort of joy that only a mother and child can feel for each other. Cosette's hug soon became more enthusiastic, and she burst into tears again - clearly happy ones this time. "Will you hug me like this all the time?" she asked.

"Of course," Fantine replied, kissing Cosette's dainty forehead.

"Will you stay with me and not go away?"

"Of course! I love you, Cosette." She felt it with all her heart.

Cosette's expression became more and more excited. "Oh! Will you be kind to me, and not scold me all the time like--"

Before Cosette could finish, Monsieur Madeleine interrupted her. "Yes, Cosette, I know your mother will be very kind to you." He turned to Fantine. "Now, please listen to me, Mademoiselle Fantine. I cannot stay here much longer, because--because I must return to my duties as mayor. Don't worry; I've made sure you are provided for. I will leave you with enough money for food and lodgings until you feel completely better. After that, you will already have a job waiting for you. I have a friend in Paris who needs someone to care for his two children. He has assured me that he pays well, and you can bring Cosette with you." Turning back to Cosette: "How does that sound, Cosette? Life in the big city, with your mother and nice children to play with?"

"It sounds lovely! I still cannot believe it!"

Fantine slowly got out of bed with her arm still around Cosette. "Why don't you show me around the inn, my love? Where do you sleep? How are your two little playmates?"

Monsieur Madeleine broke in again. "I think Cosette needs some fresh air. Why don't you take her for a walk around the town? I have bought a set of warm clothes for both of you." When Cosette pouted, he told her: "Cosette, I need this time to speak privately with the Thenardiers. I must make sure that they'll allow you to leave." Not only did the girl stop fussing, but she shivered nervously and held onto her mother more tightly. Her reaction puzzled Fantine.

Heavy skirts and shawls on, the mother and daughter walked hand in hand along the streets of Montfermeil. The winter sun was slowly melting the clumps of snow that remained on the sides of the road. Fantine walked slowly, still weak from her prolonged illness, but Cosette didn't complain or try to speed up. As they smelled fresh bread baking and heard the sounds of people on their morning errands, Fantine reflected that life could not be better than this. She had escaped arrest and illness, she was reunited with her daughter, and she would have a job and a home. It was true that there was no man in her life, but this scarcely mattered to her. The months of prostitution had made her disgusted with sex, and the lewd men she'd known had made her cynical about romantic love. All she really desired was a companion who would be kind to her...as Monsieur Madeleine had. She found herself wishing that he didn't have to leave so soon. He had been her only friend in a long time--in fact, ever since her co-workers at the factory had driven her out.

Fantine strolled with her daughter through the bustling town square. There she came upon a sight that made her heart race: Inspector Javert! What could he be doing in Montfermeil? She was well enough to know that she was not imagining things. The Inspector was really there, in the flesh! He stood with two younger officers on a raised platform, shouting something to the passers-by. Fantine pulled her hood tightly over her head, grabbed Cosette's hand, and tried to get away unseen. As she passed Inspector Javert, she heard him say:

"Listen, everyone! You must be on the lookout. A wanted criminal is hiding in this town! His name is Jean Valjean. He's between fifty and fifty-five years old, about 190 centimeters tall, large build, with whitish hair and beard. He has exceptional physical strength. He sometimes goes by the name Madeleine. If anyone sees this man, contact me or another officer immediately!"

One of the officers volunteered, "I'll check the Thenardier place. They're the type of crooks who might hide him for a price."

Fantine's understanding of what she heard came in stages. Right after her initial shock, she felt ashamed for having romantic thoughts about a convicted criminal. Then she felt betrayed that he had pretended to be an upstanding citizen and lied to her whole town. Finally she realized that whatever he had done to her town, he had shown _her _nothing but kindness. In fact, he was wholly responsible for her being alive at that moment - and he was in great danger.

Possible courses of action flew through her mind. If the Inspector recognized her, he might send her to jail, but she was healthy and had Cosette with her. The sentence would be short and neither of them would die. On the other hand, her benefactor would probably be a prisoner for life if caught. She approached Inspector Javert and shouted: "I've seen that man! He was going into the boarding house over there." She pointed to a building in the opposite direction from the Thenardiers'.

It worked: Inspector Javert told the officer to search the boarding house before going to the Thenardiers'. Fantine had bought enough time to warn Monsieur Madeleine that the police were coming. Meanwhile, the Inspector peered at Fantine's face. He raised his eyebrows in recognition but made no attempt to arrest her. He simply spit out some grumpy remark that she "had better watch herself" and returned to the more pressing situation.

As Fantine hurriedly dragged Cosette back toward the inn, the implications of the mayor's true identity finally occurred to her. The escape to Montfermeil and the two carriages were for his own safety, not hers. His name change was also for himself. He would be leaving her, not to return to his mayoral duties, but to continue fleeing from the police. What good were all the positive changes in her life if they'd all been based on a lie...and what other secrets was this strange and terrible man hiding? Only one thought gave Fantine hope: why did this escapee impede his progress by bringing her along? It was true that once his identity was revealed, his word as mayor would no longer be the law and the Inspector could arrest her. Yet if he was some hardened criminal looking out only for himself, why would he care?

Fantine forgot her weakness and fatigue as she rushed to the inn as fast as she could, dying for answers.


	3. Absence

**Chapter 3: Absence**

A heated argument, loud enough for Fantine to hear from outside, was taking place inside the Thenardiers' inn. An angry male voice was speaking: "I don't understand you, Fauchelevent. You come in, order the best room in the house and throw money around like a millionaire, and now you want to _steal_ this girl away from us?"

Fantine heard Monsieur Madeleine respond, his tone of voice much calmer than his adversary's. "Reuniting a child with her mother can hardly be called stealing."

"Her _mother_? Who, that old hag you brought with you? Ha! Fantine was about twenty years old when she came here with that baby. Don't think you're fooling me for one moment, swindler."

Fantine rushed into the room, holding Cosette's trembling hand. She wondered how to warn her benefactor about Inspector Javert without giving away his identity. Madame Thenardier sat up from her chair and advanced on her. "So, you say you're Fantine, eh? Aged four decades in as many years?" She looked down at Cosette, who was furiously clutching Fantine's waist. "Even got the little girl convinced, too?"

Fantine protested feebly, "Listen to me, I--"

Thenardier stroked his chin. "Maybe we should get the police on these two. They seem like robber types to me - I'll bet they're wanted for something or other. We could get a little reward, no?"

His wife nodded. "Good idea. I saw a few officers over at the town square today. Ponine, dear, go tell them there's a mean-looking couple here trying to make off with our, uh, adopted daughter." A girl of about Cosette's age, with a frilly dress and braided pigtails, turned around in her seat by the fire. She looked confused; apparently, her parents did not usually make her do chores. Eventually she realized what was going on and stood up.

Eponine's delay gave Fantine time to notice her opportunity. Acting the part of the contemptuous "old hag", she spoke up: "Ha! Just see if you get any help from those policemen in the square. They don't have time for money-grubbers like you. I saw them--they're only concerned with catching some runaway criminal. His name was...something like Valjean or Jeanval."

She saw Monsieur Madeleine jump back in surprise, but fortunately, both of the Thenardiers had their eyes focused on her. Their faces were scrunched with frustration. In the moment it took them to turn back to Monsieur Madeleine, he had regained his composure. He took a deep breath and asked experimentally: "How much money will it take to let us leave without bringing the police here? One thousand francs, perhaps?"

Monsieur and Madame Thenardier grinned at each other excitedly. "Well, not turning you in would go against my conscience," the husband said, "so it'll have to be fifteen hundred."

"Done." He reached into his valise and counted out a thick wad of bills. Fantine went wide-eyed; she'd never seen this much money in her life. "And how much to take Cosette with us?" he added.

Madame Thenardier laughed, intoxicated with excitement. "For all that money, you can have the little brat!" The couple nearly skipped up the stairs, clutching their money. Monsieur Madeleine led Fantine and Cosette out the back door, completely unnoticed in the hubbub.

"What was that all about?" Fantine asked. "Has Cosette been living here all this time?"

"Yes" was all the answer he gave. "No more words, now. I must return to Montreuil-sur-mer. I will give you the money I promised you, and the address of your new employer." He fumbled in his valise.

It hurt Fantine that this man would try to deceive her even now. "I know who you are," she said, quietly but firmly. "You're Jean Valjean, aren't you? The criminal?" He said nothing, only averted his eyes in shame and nodded. "What was your crime? How did you hide in our town for so long? Why did you finally leave, and - and - why did you bring me along?" Her eyes filled with tears. "I thought you were my friend. I thought I understood you, when in truth I knew nothing about you at all."

He responded with pain in his voice. "I'm sorry, Fantine, but I can't answer your questions right now. I have no time; I must escape before Javert finds me. All I can do is promise you this. Go to the address on this card." He handed her a piece of paper and some money, all without looking up from the ground. "As soon as the police stop searching so heavily for me, I will come to you and tell you everything you want to know. Perhaps then you will forgive me." Before Fantine could respond, he was gone, picking nimbly through the woods that bordered the town.

Fantine felt sad--angry--hurt--nearly every negative emotion combined into one. Yet life must go on. She hired a coach to Paris, then sought out an educated-looking passerby who could read her card to her. The address meant nothing to her - the neighborhood was much wealthier than any part of Paris she had seen - but the name meant something. Remy Tholomyes. He had the same last name as Felix Tholomyes, Cosette's father. Could they be related?

They arrived at a stately three-story mansion. The well-dressed man who answered the door informed them that the owners were out for the evening, but that they were expecting Fantine and Cosette. Would they like to go upstairs and join the servants' dinner? There would be enough food for them both. He led the pair into a small room where three women, two middle-aged and one young, were sitting around a wooden table. As soon as Fantine and Cosette entered, the younger woman picked up her piece of bread and hurried out of the room.

Noticing the awkwardness, one of the remaining two stood up to greet the new arrivals. "Good evening," she said warmly. "We've been expecting the two of you. Sit down, take some bread and cheese, and let me introduce you to everyone. My name's Yvette; I cook and do a little cleaning as well. You've already met my husband Richard; he's the butler. And that's my cousin Marie, the maid.

Richard swallowed his bread and joined in. "I've heard you're going to take care of little Albert and Amelie, but you still seem a bit sick. We'll ask Madame if Louise can stay a few more days."

"Louise? Is she the one who ran out of the room?" Richard and Yvette both nodded. "Why did she leave?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing that you did," Yvette reassured her. "It's only - wouldn't you be upset if your replacement walked in the room? You were hired because Madame fired her."

"Why?" Cosette asked the obligatory six-year-old-girl inappropriate question.

Yvette's face turned indignant. "It was the most ridiculous reason I've ever heard: because Louise took a lover. She never brought him into the house; they found out from overhearing a conversation between her and me. But our mistress is extremely uptight with morality and religion. Let me give you a word of advice - if you've ever done anything not expressly permitted by the Pope, keep it to yourself!"

Fantine gulped. An hour before, she had hoped that her new employers were related to Felix. Now she was horribly afraid of what might happen if they were.

Madame Tholomyes' behavior the next day completely matched Yvette's description of her. The very first question she asked Fantine was, "You are a widow, are you not? Your daughter is legitimate?" Fantine felt apprehensive - the last time she had lied about Cosette's father, it had ended with her being fired from the factory. The other instructions, such as "Take my children to mass three days per week" and "Ensure that they learn their catechism", did not help matters. Fantine had not been inside a church in years; she had always worked as many hours as possible to pay for Cosette.

The master of the house talked quietly and not often. Fantine later found out that he had not always been so meek. Before his wife had made him give up his "ungodly" ways, he had been a generous and jolly party-goer, loved by everybody - _just like his brother Felix._ Madame Tholomyes would not let her husband see his "libertine" brother, but Fantine's job was still at risk. Someone might notice the resemblance between Felix and Cosette...

Fantine and Cosette shared a bedroom on the second floor, next to the nursery where the Tholomyes children slept. After Louise left, Fantine took over their care full-time. Albert was five years old, and Amelie was four.

Fantine thought her daughter would be happy to have playmates, but Cosette didn't seem to notice them. She sat in the corner, singing or talking to herself, ignoring the happy laughter of the other two. Even when Amelie offered one of her dolls, Cosette shook her head without a word.

After a few days of this, Fantine began to worry that her daughter's poor health might be to blame. "How are you feeling, my love? Do you still feel sick?" she asked as she tucked Cosette into bed. She was ready for neither the subsequent response, nor the nonchalant way that Cosette gave it:

"Huh? I was never sick. Ponine and Zelma were sick a lot, but not me."

Fantine's voice trembled as she tried to make sense of this. "Then why are you so thin?" she asked lamely.

"I don't know. Maybe it's because Madame Thenardier didn't give me much to eat. She said I was there on charity, so I should be happy I got anything at all."

"Cosette, my dear, I'm so sorry this happened to you..." Fantine wrapped her arms around her as tight as she could. She cried, but her daughter did not. The little girl had stopped crying over her plight long ago, and this broke Fantine's heart more than anything. "What about the new clothes I saw you in? Didn't the Thenardiers buy those for you?"

"No, Monsieur Fauchelevent did. They were the only warm clothes I've ever had. Madame Thenardier used to dress me in Eponine's old cast-aways. She and Azelma said I looked like a scarecrow. They were always so cruel! They wouldn't play with me, or let me play with their dolls, or even talk to me except to be mean. And I had to work all the time, and sometimes they even made me go to the well at night..." Cosette babbled on in this fashion, then stopped abruptly. "Oh, Maman, I'm so sorry! I forgot, Monsieur Fauchelevent said not to talk about this."

Fantine was concerned. "Why did he say that?"

"He said it's over and it doesn't matter anymore. Will we ever see him again, Maman? I like him."

Fantine remembered his promise to visit her, but worried that the iron-willed mistress might somehow fire her before then. She could only say, "I certainly hope so. I like him too."

It was true. She knew her friend was a convict, but the more she thought about him, the more his kindness overshadowed that fact. She tried to think of what crimes a good man might commit--maybe he had stolen something to help someone he loved. Food, perhaps, to feed a starving family? She would have done the same for Cosette.

Then why did the police want him so badly? She could not come up with an explanation, but insisted to herself that some part of the corrupt justice system was to blame. She knew nothing about how the French government worked, but she had the acute awareness of every poor person that it was terribly unjust.

Indeed, she liked this Jean Valjean. And though her rational mind pushed the thought away, some purely emotional part of her felt that she might somewhat, slightly, possibly love him.


	4. Anguish

**Chapter 4: Anguish**

_A/N: _Sorry for the long hiatus...you can blame my evil internship, which is now over, as are my days of programming...I'm studying foreign languages instead! I'll write more often, I promise!

For two months, Fantine lived in a state of fragile equilibrium. She cared for the Tholomyes children along with Cosette, who was slowly shedding her protective shell to reveal a sweet and playful child. Yet in the back--and sometimes the front--of her mind was the knowledge that she could lose it all in an instant. It didn't matter that no one in the house had had any contact with Felix in all that time; there were a million ways that they could find out about her involvement with the renegade brother.

For the first few weeks, she awoke every day wondering if Jean Valjean would visit her that day. As time passed without any contact from him, she began to think she would never see him. Perhaps he had been caught and was sitting in jail...or perhaps he had gone on with his life and forgotten about her.

Then came the day when everything changed. Fantine's fragile balance was upset from two sides at once.

First was the news that the old renegade brother Felix was no longer a renegade. He had gone into business after squandering most of his inheritance, and the straight-laced merchant mentality had rubbed off on him. He had even become engaged to a young woman from a titled family.

Remy Tholomyes found out about this change from Felix's letter, in which he entreated: "My dear brother, I know I have not seen you for much time, but can we not make amends and celebrate this joyous occasion together?" At first Madame Tholomyes was adamant, but her husband managed to persuade her to invite Felix and his fiancee to dinner that Thursday.

Fantine was too busy working all day to think much about the news. In the stillness of night after the children were in bed, the weight of Felix's visit hit her. She imagined living on the streets with no job, and especially of Cosette going hungry, and a wave of panic hit her. Feeling dizzy, she stepped outside to breathe in the cool spring-night air. There, the second event happened. Sitting on a bench in the garden, almost hidden in the darkness, was Jean Valjean.

Fantine barely recognized him. The stately suit he'd worn as mayor was replaced with a dirty, torn-up shirt and trousers. Even his shoes had holes in them. His hair was matted and untrimmed; he looked like a homeless beggar. Only his face, with the eyes and smile that seemed to radiate kindness, was the same. She approached the bench tentatively, but had no chance to talk to him. The old convict's eyes flickered toward a passing policeman; he stood up nonchalantly and went on his way. As he passed her, she heard him mutter: "Field of the Lark. This Thursday, ten PM."

Thursday - that was the day when everything would change.

First came Felix's visit. In fact, Felix had no opportunity to see Fantine at all. She dressed Albert and Amelie in their finest clothes, but their mother led them out to meet their uncle. She did not ask Fantine or Cosette to come. When it was time to put the children to bed, Felix was in another room talking to his brother and did not see her walk by. She sang a lullaby to Albert and Amelie, then a more heartfelt one to Cosette, and finally stretched out on her bed with blissful relief. The children were in bed, and Felix would would not care about meeting some unimportant servant like her. She had survived the great ordeal; now at 10:00 she would have her reward.

Around 9:30 Fantine descended the back stairs, where she hoped no one would see her leaving. Two men stood near the bottom of the stairs, examining a painting on the wall. "Yes, I agree, that work of art was quite a find, Remy," one of them said. The voice sounded older and more refined, but Fantine recognized it immediately as Felix's voice. It was the voice she'd heard in her dreams for the past eight years. Felix turned around and squinted at Fantine's humble dress and grey hair. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked, partially to himself.

Fantine choked, "I'm sorry, I don't think so," and hurried out the door. She looked back and saw Felix scrunch his face in thought, then whisper something to his brother. Her heart sank: she knew he had recognized her. Tomorrow the inevitable dismissal would come that she'd been so close to escaping.

Today, at least, she could talk to her friend. The Field of the Lark was nothing but a wide, grassy plot of land dotted with old buildings. It looked deserted, even for that time of night. Fantine spotted Jean Valjean at the far end of the field. Again he was sitting on a bench; but this time, he wore the hat and coat of a modest gentleman; the beggar's clothes must have been yet another disguise. He smiled and motioned for her to sit down as she walked to ward the bench.

They sat awkwardly for several minutes, each waiting for the other to say something. Finally Fantine began: "So it's all true, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, but it's not what you think. Would you like me to tell you why I was in jail?"

"If--if it's all right."

"It was for stealing food," he replied painfully. "I was about your age, living with my sister and her son. We had both lost our jobs, and the baby was dying. I was desperate, so...I broke into a bakery and stole a loaf of bread."

"That was all? Then why were the police after you in February?"

"After they put me in the galleys, I tried to escape three different times. They made my sentence longer each time, so I served nineteen years in all. When they let me out, the outside world wasn't much less of a prison. Working for almost nothing, hated and shunned by everyone...and then I met someone who changed my life."

"Who was she?"

Jean Valjean laughed. "No, it was not a woman; I've hardly known anything of them. It was a priest, a bishop in fact. He took me into his house without any questions and gave me food and shelter. And then I did something horrible. I tried to steal something from him, and he told the police he had given it to me. That was when I broke my parole and came to Montreuil-sur-mer, which is why the police are after me. I did it because, for the first time in nineteen years, I truly had the desire to live. That bishop was the first person since my sister to show me kindness, and his kindness gave me the will to go on." He looked at Fantine self-consciously. "I'm sorry I've been ranting. I suppose you can't understand--he trailed off.

"I understand perfectly," Fantine whispered. More loudly, she continued, "I want to tell you that none of this really matters to me. No matter what you did in the past, you still saved my life and took care of me. I'm relieved about what you said, but even if you were a murderer I'd still feel the same way about you."

"What do you mean?"

Fantine realized the awkward situation in which she had caught herself. "If you don't mind, I have one more question. Why have you done all this for me? I know you're always kind to everyone, but not like this."

Jean Valjean looked awkward, too. He said quickly, "What do you mean by 'all this'? I've already told you why I stopped Javert from arresting you and brought you to my house. It was because your sickness was my fault."

He hadn't answered her question at all, so she continued: "What about after that?"

"That was different. It was because..." He looked around nervously. "It's late, and we should probably go. Listen, I will tell you where I live. It's number 55, Rue Plumet. I trust you not to tell anyone where it is, but if you ever need anything, please come see me. Be sure to use the back entrance; it's more hidden."

Fantine tossed and turned in bed for hours that night, trying to dissect that night's events. Did Felix's look mean that he would tell his brother about their past affair? Was Jean Valjean's invitation simply an act of kindness, or could he share her affection? Her troubled sleep was interrupted by the 6:00 AM spectacle of Madame Tholomyes in her nightgown and cap. Fantine gulped, waiting.

"My husband told me he and my brother-in-law saw you last night," the lady began.

Fantine tried to act neutral. "What did he say?"

"He said that it was ten PM, and you were going out the door completely dressed. He went to bed after eleven and you still had not come in. Tell me, Fantine, what were you doing out that late alone?"

"I was going for a walk."

"For more than an hour? I find that hard to believe; I'm quite sure you were with some man."

"I'm sorry, but I wasn't. That's all I can say."

Madame Tholomyes scoffed. "I'll believe you this time, but I will be paying extra special attention to you from now on. No one in my household engages in immoral behavior, especially the one responsible for my children's upbringing. Is that understood?"

Fantine's subdued "Yes, madame" hid the sinking feeling in her heart. This close call plus Madame Tholomyes' extra vigilance meant that she would have no more night meetings with Jean Valjean. Her seven-day-a-week work schedule precluded any day visits, too. Rationally, it didn't matter: she had a steady job and a home with Cosette, everything she had dreamed of for years. Yet she couldn't bear to say goodbye to that other, long-repressed dream that had surfaced recently, the one about finding love. She had to find out if Jean Valjean loved her the way she loved him. That was why she resolved to find a night when everyone else was occupied, and go to Number 55 Rue Plumet.


	5. Crime

**Chapter 5: Crime  
**

Fantine had nearly been fired, but the morning's turmoil was not over. From the opposite end of the house, she heard Madame Tholomyes scream: "My jewels! They're gone!"

The entire household rushed downstairs. Madame Tholomyes was standing near the same door where Fantine had exited the night before. She was staring at the same painting that Fantine had seen Felix examining. The painting, however, had changed. It was now tilted at an angle to reveal a hollowed-out space in the wall. "My jewels were in there," the lady sobbed. "They're priceless. Some belonged to my great-grandmother, and now someone stole them! Oh my God, Remy, get the police!"

Her husband tried to calm her down, but to no avail. "Listen, we don't need to do that yet. I'm sure they were taken by someone we know. Let's think about who it could be."

Madame Tholomyes stomped on the floor. "We don't have time for this!"

"All right, dear, then _you _go down to the station." When his wife was out the door, Monsieur Tholomyes whispered to Fantine that he wanted to talk to her.

"I swear, I know nothing about this!" Fantine begged when they were alone.

"Yes, you do," he countered. "You see, I think I know who stole my wife's jewelry. I don't think any of the help would do it, and no one else was at our house yesterday - except for Felix."

Fantine gasped. "You think your own brother stole from you?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure of one thing: he's not the bourgeois he says he is. It's all some kind of trick. That woman he brought along isn't some heiress - she's a waitress at a tavern we used to frequent. Did he really think I wouldn't recognize her in fancy clothes?"

"I still don't understand; why do you need my help?"

"Don't think you're fooling me, Fantine," Monsieur Tholomyes laughed. "I know all about you and Felix. He told me last night. I haven't told my wife, of course" - he glared at her - "but I will, if you don't get those jewels back, or at least get Felix back here. My brother is _not _going to jail!"

Fantine tried to explain that her affair with Felix had been long ago, but her employer did not seem to listen. He only promised to ask someone to watch the children, and sent her on her way.

She checked in the places she used to go with Felix, but with no luck. Felix's loft was now inhabited by an elderly couple. None of his old friends had seen him in over a year; nor had the owner of his old favorite restaurant. While wandering despondently through the streets, she had an idea. If Felix really had turned to crime, he would be spending his time with a different, shadier crowd. She knew only one person who might know who they were: the old convict, Jean Valjean.

Rue Plumet was utterly deserted. Fantine never would have noticed the shadowy alley if she hadn't been looking for it. She pushed in the front gate marked 55. The house looked deserted as well; the windows were boarded up and cobwebs hung from the posts. In fact, the dirt path beneath her feet looked as if no one had stepped on it in years. Fantine turned around, thinking she had heard the address wrong. Then she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder.

"We're lucky no one saw you," said Jean Valjean. "That entrance isn't hidden enough; the back way is better." Fantine looked around nervously. "Come in," he continued. "I live over there." He pointed to a tiny cottage, almost a shack, sunk against the high fence.

The inside of the cottage was as bare as the outside; only a bed, table and chairs occupied the single room. Fantine and Jean Valjean awkwardly made conversation for a few minutes. She told him that Cosette was turning eight soon. "It's time that you should send her to school," he said. "Knowing how to read and write opens many doors. If I'd learned as a child instead of in prison, none of my...trials...might have happened to me."

She nodded, but didn't understand him - as far as she knew, there were no free schools for poor children - before going on to her main purpose. She began with, "Where can you find the criminal types around here?"

Jean Valjean stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Almost everyone at Toulon was provincial like me, so I didn't hear much about that underworld in Paris. Still, there's one name everyone hears: Patron-Minette."

"Who is he?"

"Not a person, but a gang. Gringoire, Gudule, Brujon, and Babet. They have in a hand in almost every illegal activity that goes on here. Their home base is legendary, too - an old abandoned building on Rue Chantfleurie that they've made into their castle. Why?"

She told him about Felix, and asked how to find Patron-Minette's headquarters.

"What? Oh, Fantine, you can't go there. Trust me when I say it's too dangerous. Why did Monsieur Tholomyes force _you_ to do this, anyway?"

She didn't want to tell him about her past affair. "I don't know, but...well, I suppose I'll be going now."

Fantine could not think of what might happen if she didn't find the jewels, so she resolved to face Patron-Minette despite Jean Valjean's warnings. She asked passers-by for directions until she found the Rue Chantfleurie. At first, she walked among humble middle-class houses. From there, she passed by tenements like the one where she used to live, then through dirty slums where beggars sat shivering, and finally to a yet more squalid street. Overgrown weeds and trash cluttered the path. Though it was early evening, the jumble of roofs overhead created a near-darkness. Most of the buildings looked abandoned, but voices came from beneath a sunken flight of stairs in the far corner. Shaking with apprehension, Fantine descended the stairs.

The stairs opened into a large room, where twenty or thirty rough-looking men sat around tables. Four of them, two old and grizzled and two young and wiry, seemed to be at the nucleus. Fantine sunk back against the wall, unsure of what to say. How did one speak to people like these? No one noticed her, so she listened silently. A few minutes in, someone descended the stairs and lurked in the the corner near her. In the dark, he looked vaguely threatening.

So many conversations were going on at once that it was difficult to hear any of them. The gang mostly discussed the robbery they were going to carry out that night, but occasionally she heard a name. At one point Felix Tholomyes was mentioned. "He still owe you that big pile of money?" someone asked.

"Naw, he paid up this morning," was the response.

"How did he get it all that quickly?"

"Dunno, but he must have been clever. Maybe we should give him a job here and there - with skills like that, he could go far in our kind of work." Felix must not have told them that he'd slighted his own brother.

Fantine decided this was a good time to speak up. She approached the center table, venturing, "Do any of you know where he might be now?"

Every eye in the room turned on her and every voice spoke at once. "You're not one of us!" she heard. "How the hell did you get here?" "You some spy from the police?" "Whatever she is, she knows all our plans!" "We can't just let her go rat on us!" Before she knew what was happening, rough hands had pushed her against the wall. Someone was tying her to a beam using a thick rope. As angry shouts came from every direction, one man dressed more elegantly than the others took charge. He pressed a knife to her neck and growled, "How did you find this place?"

"Um, a friend told me," Fantine chattered. "I was, uh, looking for Felix Tholomyes."

"_What _friend?" he boomed.

"Um, he used to be in jail, so he--"

"You're trying my patience. _What--was--his--f!ing--name?_"

Fantine had no choice but to whisper Jean Valjean's name. No one heard her, for at that moment Jean Valjean himself stepped out of the corner shadow. He had picked up a table and was waving it around as if it were a bar stool. Advancing on the man who was threatening Fantine, he commanded in his trademark calm voice, "Let the woman go and no one will be hurt."

He placed his arm around her sholulder comfortingly and started toward the exit. No one said a word as they walked out of the building.

Of course, Monsieur Tholomyes was furious at Fantine's failure, for it meant the police had to be called in. Of course, he told his wife all about Fantine's past, even adding some made-up details, long before the police came. Of course, Madame promptly fired Fantine and threw her and Cosette out. All of this bothered Fantine much less than she had expected. She had saved some money, and would find another job soon enough. Even if she didn't, destitiution seemed insignificant when she'd almost lost her life _and _almost betrayed Jean Valjean.

Weeks passed. Fantine took a sewing job. The work paid a pittance, but she was experienced in living frugally. She found a tiny garret room and learned the cheapest places to buy food. Summer was coming on, so she and Cosette got on without a fire.

Cosette herself seemed happy. The gloomy apartment might have made her sad, but she didn't spend much time there. Instead, she went to school. Fantine was shocked when she saw a sign for a free school posted on a church door, just like Valjean had talked about. She was even more surprised when she first saw Cosette writing familiar-looking shapes - letters - in the dust.

If nothing else, Fantine's piece-work job allowed her to visit Jean Valjean often. He shared his food, which was a bit better than Fantine's, and told stories of his life before prison. They no longer used the formal "Monsieur" and "Mademoiselle." He called her Fantine or sometimes 'Tine; she called him Ultime, for he insisted that Ultime Fauchelevent was his only identity. Jean Valjean was a name he wanted to bury.

Sometimes Fantine brought Cosette, who held his hand and chattered away to him unashamedly. In fact, Cosette whined every time Fantine said they had to leave. It was amazing - the two of them must have truly bonded when he'd rescued her from the Thenardiers.

Cosette noticed everything about Jean Valjean's cottage, from the deserted street to the bare-bones interior. He answered her questions in a way that, though untrue, would satisfy an eight-year-old's curiosity. The little girl often noticed things that Fantine did not, such as a certain old man who sometimes passed them on the street. "Look, Maman, he's still there," Cosette would whisper. "He's always going the same way as us. I think he's following us." After enough of these observations, Fantine began to think she might be right. Could someone be watching them?


End file.
